The Beautiful Rose
by Erikroolsall
Summary: He had no heart and was cursed to show it. She was an angel forced to serve her father's debt. When Erik and Christine meet in odd circumstances, neither expected what was to come. Can Erik find love and have her love him in return? Or will he be forced to look like a monster for the rest of eternity? POTOxBeauty
1. The Enchantment

It's here! It's finally here! This story is BACK! All thanks to LadyLunaTwilight who reminded me over and over again about this story, and I'm greatful she did. As

This story isn't necessarily going to be the same as the last time I wrote it, because I'm going to make it bigger, better, and AWESOMER! So here's the prologue, showing Erik as a spoiled brat and all that good stuff. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this chapter! Not the Phantom of the Opera or Beauty and the Beast!

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**The Beautiful Rose**

~Prologue: The Enchantment~

"_Erik," the young teen glared at his book, annoyed, as he felt a familiar presence lingering behind the chair he sat on._

"_Don't ignore me," the man chastised as he moved around the chair to stand in front of the boy._

"_Go away, Daroga," Erik snarled as he slouched further into his seat. The Persian sighed, crossing his arms._

"_Erik, your parents have requested to see you," he said curtly. Erik scoffed._

"_They're away for most of the year on business and then ignore me when they're home, and I am to __**oblige**__ to their wishes?" he snapped sarcastically._

"_They're your parents-"_

"_No, parents are around to raise their children."_

"…_Erik, please go and see them," the teen peeked his amber eyes over the book in his hands and studied the Persian thoroughly. Daroga shifted, uncomfortable under the Frenchman's gaze, feeling as though the boy could see right through him._

"_Daroga, you have something on your mind – speak freely," Erik finally said, looking back down at his book. The Persian sighed softly as he thought over his words._

"…_Erik, I understand you have had a rough upbringing with your parents not around, and you've taken upon yourself to take any matters into your own hands. I want you to remember that there are other people in this mansion that you can go to for guidance, such as myself," he finally answered._

"_Servants?" Erik asked bewildered, looking at the man in shock. Daroga bit his lip to prevent himself from snapping back at the boy for his insult._

"_Yes, but still people. You may be the son of a Comte, but that doesn't give you the right to look down on others as though you own them. Erik, your behavior has been getting out of hand, and I am worried you will direct your disrespectful manner to someone who will __**not**__ take it lightly," he explained sternly. Erik stood up from his chair, giving a dominate smirk as he did so. Amber eyes locked with jade as Erik stared the Persian down._

"_I want to see them try," he dared before slowly turning and strolling out of the grand library. Listening to his footsteps echoing in the acoustic corridors, Erik headed in the direction of the dining hall. He couldn't help thinking of how much the Persian worried about him. 'He might as well be my mother with all the worrying he does. But I'm fifteen, I don't need a parent anymore,' he thought, sighing slightly._

_The young vicomte stopped in his tracks when he overheard voices – his parent's voices – not too far ahead. He took in an unsteady breath to prepare himself before slowly proceeding into the dining hall. Walking through the already open doors, his amber eyes scanned the room wearily to find the two adults at the other end of the table talking loudly amongst themselves._

"_Erik! About time, you spoilt brat," his mother yelled when she noticed him enter, saying the last part in a growl._

"_You wanted to see me?" Erik asked as politely as he could muster._

"_Nadir has informed us that you have not been keeping up with your studies," his father replied sternly. 'That Daroga…can't keep anything to himself,' Erik cursed, thinking of an excuse for his lack of attention in school work._

"_I have been busy in other matters," he lied, holding a strong gaze against his parent's scolding ones._

"_In doing what?" his father asked, his tone sounding like a dare._

"…_In…my music," Erik answered slowly._

"_Music?" his mother practically screeched. "You're wasting your bloody time on that hideous racket!"_

"_I believe we can use this to our advantage, my dear," his father hushed his spouse in a comforting voice. The woman looked at him curiously as he turned his attention back to his son._

"_Well, since you have been spending so much time with your music, you must have created your own score by now. We should like to hear it," he continued slyly. Erik's eyes widened in surprised as he searched through his mind for a logical comeback to his father's words._

"_It's…not ready yet," he tried._

"_Oh really? Well then, we would like to hear the finished piece by the end of this evening, or I will have the servants remove anything remotely related to music from this household. Am I clear?" his father asked darkly. Erik opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly shut it, knowing there was no point in arguing._

"_Yes, father," he growled lowly. With a dismissing nod from his father's head, Erik quickly turned on his heal and heatedly exited the room. Angry thoughts filled the teen's head as he tried to think of a way of producing an original score of music in minimal time. He may not have spent all of his time away from his studies with his music, but he had played a great deal and had even decided to try and compose his own opera. But hardly any of his rough drafts were close to what he knew his parents were expecting of him._

"_Damn that Daroga! When I find him I swear I will make him __**pay**__!" he growled venomously, storming back to the library in hopes the servant was still there._

"_I'm sorry, but I cannot let you in without the Count's consent," Erik paused when he heard the familiar elderly voice of Madam Giry nearby. Curious as to whom she was addressing, he followed the sound of her stern voice to the front entrance._

_In the threshold of the Mansion's entranceway stood a very elderly woman. Her face was covered in thick wrinkles, old torn clothing covered her frail body, and her weak posture was hunched over, only being supported by the walking stick in her hand. Erik scrunched his nose, disgusted, as he looked from the ugly old woman to the younger Madam Giry, who stood blocking her way._

"_What is going on?" he asked angrily as he walked over dominantly towards to the two women, crossing his arms as he did so._

"_Erik!" Madame Giry exclaimed surprised, not hearing the younger enter the room._

"_Is this the vicomte?" the old woman asked, motioning weakly to the male._

"_I am, and who in God's name are you?" Erik snapped rudely._

"_I am just an old traveler. Please, Messier, I would not bother such a fine household if the weather had not been so dreadful. The wind is harsh and the rain is falling like stones to the ground!" she pleaded, giving a small cough at the end. Erik looked behind the woman to the weather outside._

"_That's because it's hailing," he corrected with a roll of his eyes. "We do not give out rooms to strangers, please leave,"_

"_B-But Messier! Please! I-I have nowhere else to go! My home is a journey hours away!" she begged. As quickly as she could she pulled an item out of her raggedy pocket. "H-Here! Take this! I-It's all I have!"_

_Erik looked down at the item distastefully. The woman held a beautiful red rose, glistening with round raindrops on its blooming peddles._

"_I don't want your flower. I must ask you to leave immediately, or I will remove you by force," he ordered firmly, leaving no room for argument. Madam Giry gave him an incredulous look, but stayed silent against his wishes. The old woman looked at the ground for a moment, her body shaking. Erik thought for a moment that the cold had finally got to her and she was going to collapse, but soon the sound of dark chuckling could be heard._

"_You…deny an old woman sanctuary? How proud can one human be…so heartless," she whispered to herself._

"_What are you mumbling about?" Erik snapped impatiently. The old woman slowly raised her head so that green eyes met amber. A youthful glint showed in the emerald irises and a sudden feeling of danger struck Erik's heart. Before he could react a burst of light and force emerged from the woman, knocking the vicomte and Madam Giry off of their feet._

_Erik quickly scrambled to his feet, but before he could look at the old woman a hand clasped around his throat and lifted him high into the air, his feet dangling above the ground._

"_I have never seen such a cold hearted creature like you before," the woman said darkly, her voice seeming to echo with a deeper tone. Erik desperately tried to pry her fingers away from his throat as he choked for air. Looking down at the woman, his eyes widen in shock and fear when he saw that she was no longer an old woman, but a beautiful young lady, dressed in colorful flowing robes._

"_Erik!" Madam Giry cried out in panic, but was unable to move from her position on the ground due to a strong force holding her down._

"_I have seen creatures with black hearts turn to light before…whether or not you shall have the same fate is another story. I shall put your soul to the test for your cruel treatments to others. You have until your twenty-first year to find someone to love you for your dark heart, or else you will suffer to live the rest of your miserable life looking on the outside the same way you look on the inside," the woman explained, her hand tightening around the teen's vocal cords. Erik sputtered, trying to gasp for air but his throat not opening enough for the air to go through._

_The woman began mumbling Latin enchantments under her breath. At first nothing seem to have taken effect but then a white light blinded the vicomte and sent his body into a series of writhing pain. Erik cried out as loudly as he could for help, but he could barely hear himself over the sound of his blood pumping in his ears._

"_Someone help!" Madam Giry called out desperately, watching in horror as her master was slowly being transformed into a hideous creature. Footsteps were heard entering the room as the Persian ran in._

"_Antoinette, what is-" he froze in his spot as his eyes widened at the scene in front of him. "Erik!" he yelled in alarm as he ran to teen's aid. The woman's eyes briefly looked at the Persian's as the man was suddenly knocked to the ground by an unseen force. The woman hummed, content._

"_I am done here," she said to herself before tossing Erik's limp body towards the Persian._

"_Erik," the Persian panted as he slowly sat up from being knocked down before quickly crawling over to the unconscious teen's body. Rolling Erik onto his back, the Persian's jade eyes widen in terror. The boy's face had been changed drastically, the skin yellowing slightly as it stretched over the bone to reveal its skull like shape. His cheeks and eyes sunk into the skull lightly and there was a hole where the cartilage of the boy's nose used to be. For a moment the Persian thought the woman had drained the life out of the vicomte by his thin skeletal looking body, but the shallow breathing assured him that this was not the case._

"_Madam here will inform you the conditions of my curse," the woman informed the Persian, motioning to Madam Giry who was too frightened of Erik's new appearance to go to his aid._

"_Who are you? And why did you do this?" the Persian yelled angrily at her._

"_I am an enchantress, and your young vicomte can tell you the rest. To encourage him to find the requirement of ending his own curse, I shall place a curse on everyone in this castle that has been an influence on his life. When he lifts the curse, your own curse will also be lifted," she continued._

"_W-What?" Madam Giry sputtered. Another bright light appeared from the enchantress and both the Persian and Madam Giry braced themselves against the spell. But they found that no pain reached them. Looking down, the Persian's breath caught in his throat as he could see the floor through his own leg. His whole body had become transparent, as well as Madam Giry._

"_Hmm…it looks as though almost everyone in the castle has been transformed in the same way as you," the enchantress informed. "All servants…interesting how the Comte and his wife had not changed,"_

_The Persian looked at her in shock as she turned to leave. "He only has until his twenty-first year to find my conditions…but I will extend your curse's deadline until his twenty-second year so that if he fails to lift his own curse, he can still lift yours," the woman continued before walking out of the open door._

_The room was silent as Madam Giry and the Persian's eyes met in dread._

"…_What on earth happened…?" the Persian slowly asked._

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**A/N-**Poor Daroga, always gets dragged into Erik's mess. Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter will of course be with Christine, so hopefully (hopefully) it will be up soon. Reviews?


	2. Five Years Later

**SEE CHAPTER 1!**

So yeah, chapter two is up! Yay! I'm having a better time writing Christine and Raoul this time than the last time I wrote this. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or Beauty and the Beast :)

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**The Beautiful Rose**

~Chapter I: Five Years Later~

"Christine? Christine?" The girl opened her eyes as she was pulled out of her daze. Looking around her surroundings briefly, she realized she must have stopped her needlework in order to listen to the gentle sound of the violin in the next room. Looking at the old women sitting across from her, giving her a stern but knowing look, a small blush dusted her cheeks in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Mamma Valérius, I won't get distracted again," she promised, quickly picking up the needle where she had dropped it and continuing on the small embroidered flowers she was creating in the white cloth in her hands. Mamma Valérius chuckled gently at the young girl.

"Your father plays beautifully on that instrument, doesn't he?" she commented lightly, turning her eyes down to her own needlework. Christine nodded her head with a small smile.

"He's the best in all of town," she answered, pride evident in her voice. At the thought of her father's gift at playing the violin, her head tilted down in sadness and her hands dropped the embroidery onto her lap. Mamma Valérius caught this in the corner of her eye.

"What's the matter, child?"

"…Do you believe father will be good enough to win the audition to play at the Opera House in Paris?" Christine asked, her blue eyes remaining downcast. Mamma Valérius took her time answering, choosing her words carefully.

"…I don't know," she answered honestly, "There are many great musicians in the entirety of France. But if I know you're father, whom I do, he will not let that opportunity go without a fight. Do not worry so much, dear, everything will be fine."

"Yes, Mamma Valérius," Christine replied politely, quietly returning to her needlework. She couldn't help wondering the possibility of her father not getting the job. They were not a wealthy family, so much that at one point they were living on the streets of Sweden with nowhere to go. If Mamma Valérius and her husband, who is now deceased, had not taken them in then they would have surely died. They had moved to a town near Rouen in France so that Mamma Valérius could live near the rest of her relatives, especially as she got into her old age. But now they are losing money again, and Christine's father would go to any cost to be able to get enough money to support his family, including Mamma Valérius for all of her kind gestures in the past. That is why he was going to Paris for the opportunity to audition for a part in the orchestra, but Christine worried that he may not have the same skills as the others who would also be auditioning.

"Christine?" Christine was once again snapped out of her daze, this time by the sound of her father who was calling her from the next room.

"I'm coming, Papa," she replied, gently putting her work on the table beside her before standing and rushing to the next room. As expected, her father stood in the middle of the small living area, violin clutched in his left hand, the bow in his right. On his aged face was a gentle smile at seeing his beautiful daughter, who was practically a lady now, being close to the age of adulthood.

"What is it, Papa?" Christine pondered, tilting her head slightly.

"It looks like there's going to be bad weather outside," he father began, motioning to the window near where he stood with the bow of the violin. Christine looked at the dark clouds outside and then back to her father in confusion.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"I was planning to leave tomorrow morning at dawn to go to Paris, but I fear the storm will hit before then and trap me here. If I leave in an hour or two, I could get to a town closer to Paris when the storm comes," he continued. Christine's eyes widen in shock, a deep part of her not wanting her father to leave at all.

"B-But you said you were going to leave tomorrow!"

"I know. But the weather always changes plans. Would you do me a favour?" he asked, his light blue eyes gazing into hers. Christine could never deny those eyes, and knew she would have to let her father do as he pleased for it was all for the better good.

"Yes," she answered quietly.

"In my coat pocket there are a few francs. Could you please go to town and buy some bread for me to bring on my journey?"

"Yes, Papa," and without another word said, Christine turned and left the room. Though her heart was heavy with the thought of her father leaving, she did what she was told and went to the front door. Quickly taking the francs from her father's coat pocket, and shrugging on her own coat, she left the small house.

The wind was light, but cold as it passed over the girl as she walked down the dirt road to town, the breeze ruffling her blonde hair. Wrapping her jacket more snuggly around her slim body to keep warmth, Christine couldn't help giving a large shiver at the chilly weather, worried about what the storm might bring.

Ten minutes later, the girl found herself in the small town, still busy with the same villagers that came every day for food, though less than usual due to the cold weather. Not being one to make light conversation with strangers, Christine kept her head down and quickly walked to the closest bakery. Stepping inside the shop, she was greeted by warmth from the working stoves and without a thought stepped deeper into the shop.

"May I help you, mademoiselle?" the baker asked from across the counter. Christine blinked for a moment, trying to remember why she was there before moving towards the man.

"Yes, Monsieur. May I have a loaf of bread, please?" she asked.

"Which one?" the man asked, motioning towards the different loaves displayed in a basket on the counter. Christine took a moment to inspect each one, debating whether or not it would be better to buy two small loaves or a big one. Deciding that the larger loaf would be best, she pointed at the one shaped like an oval.

"That one, please," she answered. The baker nodded his head and he gently took the loaf and began rapping it in a cheap material.

"That would be ten francs," he informed. Christine took the franc's her father gave her from out of her coat pocket and counted them.

"I only have seven," she told the man.

"I'm sorry, but I will sell if for no less than ten," the baker said, a look of slight apology on his face.

"But Monsieur-"

"I have three francs," a voice cut in. Christine turned at the sound of a door closing to see a young man enter. She knew the familiar appearance, the tall, dark brown haired male with deep blue eyes and a constant kind smile.

"Raoul," she addressed, unsure of what else to say.

"Monsieur le Vicomte," the baker said shocked.

"I have three francs you can use, Christine," Raoul offered while taking his hand out of his coat pocket and showing the said amount in his open palm. Christine stared at it dumbfounded, wondering if it would be rude to take it.

"I-I'm alright, Raoul," she lied, her eyes unable to leave the money in his hand. Raoul chuckled and idly walked over to the counter and placed the franc's down.

"I insist," he answered, motioning for her to place the francs in her hands down. Christine nodded gratefully and placed the money on the counter. Taking the francs, the baker counted them before continuing to wrap the loaf of bread.

"Thank you, Raoul."

"Don't thank me, it's the least I can do for a lifelong friend," Raoul replied, leaning slightly against the counter as he faced the girl. "…Is the loaf for your father?"

"Yes," Christine answered, looking down at the ground. Raoul noticed this and nodded in understanding.

"He's leaving early, isn't he?"

"You know him just as well as I do, he tends to change his plans whenever something like the weather comes his way."

"It's always for the better. Don't worry, Christine, he'll be back before you even realize he's gone," Raoul comforted. Christine smiled gratefully.

"I highly doubt that, but thank you."

"Here you are, Mademoiselle," the baker said while offering the wrapped loaf. Christine took it with a 'thank you' before turning towards Raoul.

"I'm sorry, were you going to purchase something?" Raoul looked at her confused for a moment before remembering where he was. He laughed lightly and shook his head.

"Me? No."

"Then why are you here?" Christine asked curiously, raising a brow at him skeptically.

"I was walking to Philippe's new home when I saw you in the window. I thought I would say 'hello'," he explained. Christine smiled and gave a small chuckle.

"Silly Vicomte," she teased.

The two continued to make small talk as they exited the bakery.

"So your brother has returned from England," Christine began. Raoul nodded.

"Yes, his accent sounds like a strange mix of French and English. It's humorous – he doesn't like it when I tease him about it," he explained. "He bought a nice home near here. He wanted to start a family without having our parents watching his every step."

"Family? Has he met someone in England?" Christine questioned.

"No, but he's planning on finding someone here. I know he always had an eye for Sorelli, but…our parents…" Raoul trailed off, unsure of the right words to say.

"Do not approve of her?" Christine finished. Raoul sighed.

"Yes… If they are not in our 'rank' than they are not worthy of the noble De Chagny family," he answered shamefully. Christine places a hand on his back in a friendly manner.

"Don't worry so much, Raoul. When the right girl comes along, you'll know, and whether or not your family approves of it you will marry her and have beautiful children together. Hopefully eight of them."

"Eight?" Raoul echoed surprised.

"Of course, four to name after both your parents and hers, one to name after your brother, another to name after whoever she chooses, and the last two will be born late when you realize all of your children are grown up and moving away," Christine explained with a childish smile. Raoul laughed.

"Alright, eight it is," he agreed.

When the two reached the edge of the town they stopped to face one another.

"I believe this is where we part ways," Raoul said, a tone of a sadness in his voice. Christine nodded.

"I believe so," there was a small silence that passed between them.

"Give your father the best of luck for me, and give Mamma Valérius a kind greeting," Raoul said with a smile. Christine returned the smile as she nodded her head.

"Of course, and don't forget to give Philippe a kind greeting in my name."

"Of course… Au Revoir, Christine."

"Au Revoir," and without another word said Christine turned and left, walking towards her home. Raoul stayed where he was for a moment longer, watching after the girl longingly before slowly turning and walking towards his brother's address.

It took Christine another ten minutes to reach her home. She was surprised to see her father outside, his coat on while he packed Jammes, Mamma Valérius' horse.

"Papa?" she questioned confused as she approached the man. Her father turned and gave her a warm smile.

"There you are! I was wondering if you were going to return at all," he teased.

"You said you weren't going to leave for another few hours," Christine reminded. He nodded his head solemnly.

"I know…but my heart is anxious to be on the road. The storm clouds are coming closer at a fast pace. It would be better if I left now. I thought I would prepare Jammes while you were in town, and then say my goodbyes," he informed. Christine could only stare at him before slowly passing the loaf of bread, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Christine," her father said gently, his heart breaking at the sight. He took the bread from her before pulling her into a hug with his free hand. "I promise I will return as soon as possible. You know I would rather be here with you and Mamma Valérius than anywhere else in the world."

"I know," Christine sniffed. Taking a moment to just be in each other's embrace, her father soon pulled back. He wiped one of the tears that slid down Christine's face before giving her a warm smile.

"I'll send you word when I have reached Paris," he said comfortingly. Christine nodded with a small smile. Her father turned back to Jammes and placed the bread in one of the pockets that were not completely full. He took another few minutes to finish with the rest of the packing, but Christine never left his side as he did so. With nothing else left to do he mounted the horse.

"…I'll be home soon," he said slowly, not being able to hide the sad look on his face. Christine nodded.

"R-Raoul gives you the best of luck," she informed. Her father chuckled.

"What a good lad. If you get lonely, invite him over. Mamma Valérius loves seeing him, and you two are great friends."

"I will, Papa."

"…I love you…"

"I love you too," with that said, her father pressed his heels into the horses' side gently and began trotting down the road. Christine watched until she could no longer see his retreating figure.

"Come home safely," she whispered to herself.

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**A/N-**Well we all know where this is headed. Back to Erik's mansion, next chappy! Yay moody Erik! So please review with your thoughts on this story so far and ideas if you have some. Thank you!


	3. Visitor

Hey everyone! Look, even during my exams I can get a chapter out! That's either dedication or reluctance to study! I'm going to pretend that it's both...so, anyways, the action begins here, as you all know. So enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or Beauty and the Beast! :)

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**The Beautiful Rose**

~Chapter II: Visitor~

The storm had arrived faster than he expected. Gustave Daaé had made it to the next town, but believed he would be able to continue travelling to the next one before the storm hit. He was wrong. Now caught in the pouring rain, the harsh wind whipping at his face and clothes, Gustave found himself lost, unable to see enough in front of him to tell if he was going in the right direction. He had realized too soon that taking the forest path was the wrong choice, but now he had no other option but to follow through.

As he shivered from the cold he couldn't help thinking in the back of his mind how worried Christine must be for him. He needed to get to the next town so that he could send word to her that he was safe. He couldn't bear the idea of his daughter being concerned over him; she was too young to be worrying about problems other than her own. _Then again, perhaps she's not a child anymore…almost a lady…_ he thought with a sigh.

A loud sneeze sounded from him as he wearily rubbed at his nose with his sleeve. _There must be __**something**__ out here…_ Gustave thought as he squinted his eyes to see around him. At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him when he thought he saw a small distant light shining through the branches of the trees, but then he realized that he couldn't have been mistaken. _The town must be there! I almost passed it!_

Turning his horse in the direction of the light, he ushered it into a trot so as to reach the town faster. The wind continued to toss rain hard against his face, but Gustave ignored it as he got closer and closer to the light. Finally passing through the break in the trees he immediately pulled the horse to a stop. His bright eyes stared wide at what was before him. A tall dark mansion loomed in front of him, five times the size of any building he had ever seen.

Gustave stayed for a moment staring at the building, his mind debating whether or not he should knock on its door to ask for shelter. The mansion seemed ominous and promised no escape should one enter. Despite his better judgement, Gustave knew he couldn't stay in the rain much longer. The least he could do was ask for directions, and perhaps a moment to dry off.

Carefully leading Jammes to the mansions front doors, he dismounted. There was a small awning above one of the windows near the entrance. He tied the horse under it before going to the front doors and hesitantly knocking on them. He waited a moment before a frown reached his features. _…Maybe they didn't hear me,_ he concluded. Knocking on the doors again, but louder, he waited. After a few minutes passed and no one answered the door, Gustave debated on what to do next. _…I don't think the owners would mind if I just step in for a moment. If someone sees me I can explain why I'm here,_ he thought logically, though dread filled him at the idea.

Carefully taking the knob in his hand he opened the door. He didn't think the door would be unlocked so he was surprised when it opened so easily. Quietly he stepped in through the opening before closing the large door shut behind him. The mansion was dark, not a single light cast. The surface of any furniture that was in the main entrance had a thin layer of dust covering its surface, but not the floors, which indicated that there were inhabitants.

"…H-Hello?" Gustave called out quietly. His voice echoed slightly off of the walls, but not loud enough for anyone to hear but himself. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tried speaking louder, "Hello?" He waited anxiously in the silence. When he thought no one had heard him once again the small sound of footsteps reached his ears accompanied by distant voices.

"Armand, I do believe you've finally gone mad," a quiet male voice commented.

"I am not mad! I heard something, I swear on my mother's grave!" another male voice replied frantically.

"It's probably Madam Giry."

"It was a man!"

"Then Bouquet."

"It's not someone I recognized!"

Gustave looked at the farthest door to the left where the voices came from anxiously. Every fiber of his body told him to turn around and leave the mansion before it was too late, but the idea of going back into the cold made him remain, frozen on the spot.

"Armand, it's been five years since anyone has visited this place, including the master's parents. There's no one in here but us."

"But if there is, Richard? It's worth hoping for…" The voices were getting closer and closer until two figures appeared in the open doorway. Gustave's eyes widened, his mouth opening up to cry out in fright but no sound coming out.

The two gentlemen that stood at the other end of the entrance both looked normal, at first. One was a few inches taller than the other with black short hair slicked back and a perfectly trimmed mustache sitting above thin lips. The other had short brown hair that was more untamed than the others, but still presentable, looking more charming and social able than the first. But the fact that the two were transparent as though they were ghosts was what sent shivers down Gustave's spine and filled him with the overwhelming need to run.

The ghosts seemed equally surprised to see him as they gave each other a shocked look.

"I told you I heard someone!" the short exclaimed.

"Who _are_ you!" the taller yelled angrily as he stormed over to where Gustave stood. Too frightened to move, Gustave just stared flabbergasted at the ghost.

"I-I-" he stuttered, unable to get out a word.

"Well?"

"Richard, I think our appearance is scaring him," the shorted commented quietly as he walked up to the other. Richard grunted unhappily as his glaring eyes scanned Gustave up and down.

"Forgive him," the short said while putting a hand on Richard's shoulder as though to relieve him as he gave Gustave a smile. "I am Armand Moncharmin, and this is my friend Richard Firmin. What can we call you?"

"I-I'm-" Gustave cleared his throat. "I'm Gustave Daaé. I didn't mean to intrude, but the weather is terrible and I'm lost."

"Yes, I can only imagine how horrendous it was travelling through that storm," Armand commented with an understanding nod. "Where were you heading to?"

"Paris, but I was going to stop at a nearby town until the storm subsided," Gustave answered.

"Armand, a word," Richard said roughly while grabbing the shorter's arm and dragging him a small distance away.

"Richard, you're being more rude than usual," Armand said unhappily.

"Armand, he can't stay here," Richard whispered warningly.

"He's lost," the shorter reasoned.

"I don't care, and neither will the master," Richard hissed. Armand sighed heavily.

"We have to do _something_; he can't go back out there."

"Why not?"

"He's lost! The least we can do is point him in the right direction."

"We don't _know_ the right direction! It's been five years since we've left this hell!"

"Richard," Armand whispered in a soothing voice, trying to calm the other down. "We have to help." Richard gave him a hard look.

"Armand, you know the consequences for disobeying the master," he said warningly. Armand gave a shiver at the thought, but he slowly nodded his head.

"I know…" without another word he turned and walked back to where Gustave stood. With a friendly smile he motioned for the man to follow him.

"We have a study that is filled with maps. We can find the nearest town on there," he informed. Gustave gave a sigh of relief before smiling.

"Thank you, that's most helpful."

Richard watched the two as Armand lead Gustave up the grand staircase towards the study. "…Idiot," he mumbled before walking towards the hall from which he came.

~oOo~

"Daroga, how many times must I remind you to _**not disturb me**_!" Erik snarled as he slammed his fingers down on the keys of his organ. The Persian just looked at the man from where he stood only a few feet away from, completely unphased by the harsh words.

"Too many to count," he replied casually.

"Your attitude, Daroga, is quickly getting on my nerves," Erik hissed as he turned to glare at the man, amber eyes shining from behind the full black mask he wore over his face. The Persian raised an eyebrow at him.

"_My_ attitude?" he echoed. Erik growled but looked away guiltily. Ever since the enchantress cursed him he had never heard the end of it from the older man, constantly being reminded as to why they were in the situation they were. Erik found it hard to care about the servant's state when his was worse, but he did feel sorry for the Persian, being the only servant who seemed more like a friend than a slave.

"What do you want, Daroga?" he questioned, glaring at the floor.

"…The other servants wanted me to inquire if you were _ever_ going to try and break this curse," the Persian replied cautiously.

"Well perhaps you should tell the servants to keep their mouths _**shut**_," Erik snapped.

"Erik, you turned twenty about a month ago. That means you only have eleven months left."

"Why should you care? You have a whole other year for the curse to break!"

"I care because you're going to drag the rest of us down with you if you can't break the curse before your next birthday!" Erik growled but stayed quiet. It was true, if he couldn't save himself from the curse he wouldn't save anyone else.

"The fact you're even discussing the possibility of me breaking the curse is idiotic," he replied before turning his back on the Persian. The older sighed.

"I know it's difficult to conceive the idea of going outside with your appearance and meeting someone but…are you _really_ stubborn enough to rather looking like that for the rest of your life?" he asked.

"Like what, Daroga? Like a monster?" Erik snapped, standing to face the other, knocking his organ's bench over.

"I never said that. But I know that you hate your appearance more than anyone else who's seen it. So I'm curious as to _why_ you're not the first one trying to fix it."

"Because I'm hideous, Daroga! No woman would _ever_ look upon me with love, only fright!" The Persian sighed as the younger turned away again.

"…It's your decision…but don't be so heartless to bring the rest of us down further with you," he said quietly before turning and walking away.

Erik waited for the sound of the door shutting before sighing. He couldn't expect anyone in the castle to understand how hard it was to leave the castle. He had grown a fear of the outside world, thinking that mobs would chase him like a beast, or being put on display somewhere for all to see. No woman would ever bare to look at him, not even his mother could. Both of his parents fled the castle as fast as they could and had never returned after that day. Erik had become angry at the world for it and took it out on the servants.

With another sigh Erik began pacing his room. He didn't know how he could change his fate so he may have a happy ending, for all he saw was a monster for all eternity instead of being the handsome Vicomte he used to be. The Persian had been right about his attitude and how it will one day get him in trouble, only now did he wish that he had listened.

_Knock. Knock_.

Erik blinked confused for a moment. _…Is that…the door?_ He wondered as he walked over to his window that led out onto the balcony. Just through the glass he could see a small figure at the mansion's entrance. The figure opened the door and entered into the mansion. Erik couldn't believe his eyes, seeing someone who wasn't from the mansion entering after five years. Sudden anger and fear reached him at all of the possibilities of who it could be: a detective, a policeman, a spy. With a growl he quickly went to the door of his room, ready to search the mansion for the intruder.

~oOo~

"This is amazing!" Gustave said in wonder as he looked around the study at all of the maps hanging on the walls as well as the one's spread out on the tables. Armand cast him a small smile as he looked through a pile of maps looking for one that would have directions to the nearest town on it.

"Richard and I used to buy them whenever we left town as a present to the master," he replied.

"Master?" Gustave echoed.

"Yes… Not a pleasant fellow, but I'm sure, somewhere, he has a good heart," Armand explained before pulling a single map out from the pile. "Here we are."

Gustave came to stand beside the man as he looked at the map. It was very detailed and showed a great portion of some of Frances cities to the north.

"We're here," Armand explained while pointing at a spot on the map. Tracing his finger to a small dot with a name above it, he said "This is the closest town."

"That's…east. Thank you so much! You have no idea how much you've helped me," Gustave said graciously. Armand smiled happily.

"It's my pleasure."

"This is such a relief… My daughter's expecting word from me and if I don't send it she'll be so worried." Armand's ears perked up when he heard this.

"Daughter?"

"Yes, her name's Christine. She a true angel, the light of my world. She hates it when I leave…so I can't disappoint her by not sending word," Gustave explained. Armand nodded his head. _I better not meddle with this, his daughter sounds good hearted…unlike the master…It wouldn't be a good mix,_ he thought.

"Thank you for everything, really," Gustave thanked again.

"Anytime," Armand replied.

"Oh really?" another voice piped in. A harsh shudder ran down Armand's spine at the sound of the angelic voice, knowing immediately who was standing in the doorway. Gustave looked towards the door to see a young male leaning against the frame, looking at him in amusement through his black mask.

"I didn't know we were inviting visitors," Erik commented sarcastically.

"M-Master," Armand stuttered, daring to look at the younger.

"Master?" Gustave echoed confused.

"We shouldn't let our new _friend_ here leave so soon. Why don't we show him the _rest_ of the castle? I know a _particular_ place that he will just _love_," Erik said with a dark smile.

* * *

**A/N-**Dun dun dun~! Bet NONE of you saw that coming! Huh? You did? Oh...well, I bet you didn't know Armand was that nice! Ha! Got you there! But what will happen next? You won't know until the next chapter! MUHAHAHA! No, seriously, I'll try and update soon so...reviews?


	4. Searching

Lookie lookie! A new chappy! Finally! So sorry it took so long, I just wasn't inspired. But then I started popping my Phantom movie in my DVD player and listened to the CDs and I got a bunch of brilliant ideas for this story. So yay! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything in this chapter!

* * *

**The Beautiful Rose**

~Chapter III: Searching~

"Christine, dear, come here. You've been staring out the window long enough," Mamma Valérius chastised from where she sat at the table in the kitchen. Christine blinked slowly, being taken out of her daze as she turned her blue eyes towards the older woman. Mamma Valérius sighed at the girl's anxious appearance.

"Your father's a stubborn one – if he got caught in the storm he would not be taken down until he sent word to you," she said as comfortingly as she could. Christine looked back out the window at the harsh storm outside, the wind whipping the rain against the glass pane.

"What if he's hurt? Or lost? We should send someone to search for him," Christine said concerned.

"Send anyone else out in that storm and they'll get lost too," Mamma Valérius reasoned as she motioned for the girl to come to her. Christine reluctantly left the window and sat at the chair beside the woman.

"Listen to me," Mamma Valérius said sternly, putting a hand on Christine's shoulder, "Everything will be alright. When the storm clears up you will get word of him, I'm certain of it." Christine nodded her head with a small smile, though she still had a strong feeling that something might have happened to her father. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it felt as though the overwhelming knowledge that something was wrong had overtaken her.

She was brought out of her daze once again as a light knock on the front door was heard.

"Christine, could you get that?" Mamma Valérius asked with a dismissive wave of her hand. Christine nodded as she stood and walked out of the kitchen and to the front entrance. Unlocking the rusty bolt, she swung open the small door to reveal Raoul.

"Raoul," she said surprised, looking his wet form up and down. Raoul smiled as he casually took his hat off in greeting before raking a hand through his hair to slick it back.

"Christine…may I come in? It's wet out here," he asked. Christine chuckled slightly as she stood aside to let him in. Closing the door behind the Vicomte, Christine watched as Raoul took off his wet coat and hung it up on one of the wooden pegs nailed to the wall.

"May I ask what you're doing here?" Christine asked curiously. Raoul's blue eyes met hers as he smiled again.

"Visiting, of course. It's been too long since I've seen Mamma Valérius," he explained.

"Is that the Victome de Chagny I hear?" a voice called from the kitchen. Christine motioned towards the room and Raoul left in that direction. The young girl stayed in the front entrance, listening to the two cheery voices of her caregiver and friend talk happily to one another. She smiled liking the sound of uplifting chatter, but the feeling in her stomach didn't go away.

Looking out the window beside the door, she stared at the pouring rain in discomfort. Something urged her to leave, because something was terribly wrong, and she also thought that somehow everyone would understand if she did so. Against her better judgement, Christine took Raoul's jacket off of the peg and put it on, the inside of the heavy fabric dry and warm. She quickly opened the front door and ran out into the pouring rain, towards the horse Raoul had brought and tied to one of the supports of the small porch.

Untying the animal, she guided him towards the road before roughly mounting. In the back of her mind she was hoping that if she 'borrowed' Raoul's coat and horse that he wouldn't be able to leave her house and would stay to take care of Mamma Valérius, which she was certain he would do anyways.

"Christine!" a voice shouted and she turned to see Raoul standing in the doorway, looking at her in shock.

"I have to make sure Papa is alright. I'll be back soon, I promise. Take care of Mamma Valérius for me!" Christine yelled in return. "Come on, Kaveh," she urged as she nudged his sides until he began to gallop down the road away from her home.

~oOo~

Rain pounded the ground violently as Kaveh carried Christine through the dark forest. She shivered violently, wrapping Raoul's jacket around her more securely as she tried to see her surroundings more clearly through the harsh weather. It felt like it had been hours since she had left on her journey, and she now realised the serious mistake she had made. She shouldn't have left so abruptly, she could only imagine how worried Mamma Valérius was, and to drop a heavy burden on Raoul like she had was cruel. But the pull in her stomach continued to convince her that this was somehow the right thing to do, and that her father needed her.

She had passed one town already, searching every inn for anyone who might have seen her father. When there was no news she had continued on, hoping the next town would be more productive. But the winds had picked up again, and the rain was falling down harder. Christine had to consider stopping somewhere safe until the storm cleared up enough for her to keep going. At this rate she feared that she would get terribly lost, which she thought she might already be.

Eyes straining to see through the rain, a small light in the distance shining through the trees caught her attention. Turning Kaveh in the direction of the light she lead him in the hopes that perhaps it was another town. As she drew nearer and nearer, she realized it wasn't a town at all, but a mansion. Christine bit her lip indecisively, wondering if it would be rude to ask for shelter, but thought that to continue on could be fatal.

Hesitantly she nudged the horse forward as they neared the mansion. Hopping down from Kaveh's saddle, Christine looked around for an appropriate spot to tie him up. Seeing a stable beside the large building, barely visible to the front, Christine led the horse over to it. Glad to be sheltered momentarily from the rain, Christine looked around the clean stable at all of the horses in their stalls, looking for one that might be open.

At the very end she saw that there was one available, and she carefully led Kaveh into it and securely locked him inside. Patting the horse on the head, she began to head out of the stable when something caught her eye. There was a brown horse that was also in a stall only two down from Kaveh that looked all too familiar to her.

"Jammes?" she questioned in disbelief as she approached the horse. She seemed to recognize her and nudged her nose against Christine's face. Christine's heart felt uplifted at the thought that he father might be in the mansion, probably currently sheltered safely by the owner. She saw a side door from the stable into the mansion, but she thought it might be rude to enter in such a fashion.

Quickly she rushed back out into the rain and towards the front door, where she hoped it would be unlocked.

~oOo~

"…Idiot…" Richard mumbled unhappily as he repositioned his seated position on the bed.

"Are you…going to keep…saying that?" Armand panted tiredly as he let the other man wipe the blood off his bare back with a wet cloth.

"Yes," Richard growled angrily, dipping the red cloth in the bowl of water placed on the night table beside him before gently wiping at the deep lashes again. "I told you not to help him."

"He was lost," Armand protest weakly, being rewarded by the other man purposefully pressing hard on one of the cuts on his back. He gave a small cry before giving Richard an apologetic look for his behavior.

"Stop being nice to strangers, it only gets you hurt," Richard reprimanded, placing the cloth back in the bowl before picking up a roll of linen bandages and carefully beginning to wrap them around his friend's body. Armand sighed as he held the starting end of the bandages so the whole thing didn't unravel.

"I didn't think the master would find out so quickly," he replied honestly.

"Of course he would, idiot – it's as if he has ears everywhere listening in on us."

"If that's true, then you shouldn't speak badly of him – he might punish you too."

"I'd like to see him try," Richard grumbled, knowing that he had no power over Erik at all. It annoyed him greatly that someone as young as Erik had complete power over everyone in the mansion and would punish them over something as selfless as helping a kind stranger.

"I don't mind so much," Armand said after a moment. "I never like Buquet anyways,"

"None of us do, but if you keep messing with the master he will keep sending you to that blasted empty room in the cellars where that wretched Buquet is," Richard warned.

"You act as though I go down there frequently," Armand countered.

"You go down there more than most of us. Your good-heartedness is really getting in the way, you know that? How many lashes will Buquet give you before you get it?"

"Richard," Armand turned slightly so he could see his friend better, "I realize you are concerned for my well-being, but I'm alright, really. Besides, we can't all lose our good nature, or we're all going to be consumed into this twisted reality the master has invented for us. We have to keep up hope."

"…There's none left…" Richard mumbled with a sigh. Quietly finishing the bandaging, Richard stood from the bed and stretched. "We better go to the kitchens and tell Ledoux to start dinner." Armand nodded his head as he stood and shrugged on the clean shirt that had been folded on his bed.

"Firmin! Moncharmin!" a voice shouted down the hallway, startling the two men.

"Quit your shouting out there! We're in here!" Richard snapped angrily, not in the mood to hear that familiar, loud, annoying voice at that moment. A moment passed before a tall man poked his head into the room before entering. The man was tall, very well built, dark brown curly hair on his head and a thick mustache.

"Ah, Lachenel, what is it?" Armand asked kindly. Lachenel looked at him wildly and with almost a giddy expression.

"I was just in the stable when I saw that there was an extra horse in one of the empty stalls! I thought that maybe it was just my age getting to me, but I went to find you and I saw a girl wandering the mansion!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Armand questioned in disbelief.

"You're mad," Richard countered.

"I swear! I saw it with my own eyes!" Lachenel swore. Richard and Armand gave each other a look, the former a warning gaze as the latter had a spark of excitement. Armand quickly rushed passed Lachenel and raced towards the mansion's front entranced.

"Armand! Damn it!" Richard cursed as he chased after the other.

"Wait! What do I do?" Lachenel called after them.

~oOo~

"Hello?" Christine called nervously as she continued to slowly walk through the mansion for a sign of an inhabitant. Her voice echoed off of the walls, making the girl feel more and more small and alone as she searched around. She had found herself on the second floor of the mansion, passing by faded paintings of landscapes and small tables covered in dust.

"Papa?" she said more quietly as she opened one of the doors on her left to peek into the room, hoping to find something. She was surprised to find that it lead to another set of stairs leading upwards. The stone steps felt ominous, and she feared of what she may find up there, so she quietly shut the door.

"Armand, stop!" a voice shouted, and Christine jumped started at the sound. Turning wildly in the direction of the voice, her eyes widened in shock and fear as she saw a man abruptly stop mid-run. It wasn't the existence of the man that startled her, but his transparent shape that did. Before she could stop herself she emitted a loud scream.

"Please, don't scream! I'm not going to hurt you," the ghost assured her, putting his hands up in defense. Christine backed away from him towards the door, her body shaking uncontrollably.

"Armand!" the voice from before called as another ghost appeared, slowing down his pace as he noticed the girl. "Lachenel wasn't lying."

"Of course not," Armand tsked as he gave the girl a warm smile. "Hello there. I'm so sorry I frightened you – it was not my intention. My name is Armand Moncharmin, one of the workers in this mansion, and this is my friend Richard Firmin. May I ask why you are here?"

"I-I-I-" Christine stuttered before gulping down the lump in her throat. "I-I'm looking f-for my father."

"Father?" Armand echoed with a frown.

"Armand," Richard whispered, "get her out of here before she gets locked up too."

"Y-Yes," Christine answered the first. "I-I saw his h-horse in the stable."

"What is his name?" Armand asked slowly, guilt and realization starting to dawn on him.

"Gustave Daaé."

"Balls," Richard cursed. Armand's lips pressed tightly together in thought.

"He's in the door behind you, right up the stairs," he instructed.

"Armand! What are you doing you fool?" Richard hissed, smacking his friend across the arm. Armand just gave him a hard look.

"Richard, have a heart." Christine had stopped listening to the two as soon as she heard where her father was. Opening the door behind her she quickly scrambled up the cold steps to the top.

The stairs led to a landing, a small room made completely of stone. It was dark, the only light coming from a small barred window, illuminating slightly the only thing in the room, a barred wall that separated the room from the cell behind it.

"Papa!" Christine cried when she saw the man curled up on the cold floor in the cell, looking small and pale against his surroundings. Rushing to the bars, Christine knelt down to be at a closer level to him. Gustave stirred slightly at her voice, opening heavy lids as he coughed violently at the thin cold air. Looking up wearily, his unfocused eyes widened.

"Christine?" he whispered in disbelief.

"Papa, it's me," Christine called, tears streaming down her cheeks as she reached through the bars and took his cold hand. As his eyes adjusted she could just see the dark spots of bruises on her father's face, and the harsh purple mark around the wrist of the hand she held.

"How…how did you…find me?" Gustave questioned weakly.

"I was so worried, and I tried to find you. I saw Jammes in the stable and knew you were here," Christine explained, trying to wipe her tears away so that she could concentrate. "Papa, tell me who did this to you." Gustave's expression turned dark and panicked.

"Christine…you must leave…now," he said urgently.

"How can you even say that?" Christine asked in disbelief.

"Please…you must leave…before he finds you…" Gustave begged.

"Before who finds me? Papa, I don't understand!"

"Perhaps _I_ can help you understand," a deep ominous voice offered. Christine whirled around, her eyes widening as she saw the dark shadow standing at the door.

* * *

**A/N-**Dun dun dun! I can practically hear the Phantom's theme in the background. So yes! The moment you've all been waiting for and I have so cruelly decided to postpone it to the next chapter! MUHAHAHA! But seriously, no hate mail, the confrontation between Erik and Christine DESERVES it's own chapter! That's right! And you know it! So please review! :)


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